


Proselyte

by blythechild



Series: Drabble Challenges [4]
Category: V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: Consensual Violence, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evey takes to V's combat training with enthusiasm. Sometimes she's hard to control...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proselyte

**Author's Note:**

> This was another drabble challenge response. The challenge words were: proselyte, veneer, onion, elevator, and sore. It's hard to make onions sexy, I gotta say...
> 
> This story contains violence, mature situations, and sexual content. It shouldn't be read by minors.
> 
> This is fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal entertainment.

The elevator descended into the main Gallery with a groan of antique gears and a whoosh of air. The doors opened sedately in a marked contrast to the velocity with which a black-clad figure was hurled backward into the room, closely followed by another. The first figure, larger and more solidly built, turned the unsightly collapse into a somersault rolling gracefully onto his feet once again and instantly adopting a fighting stance. The secondary figure, smaller and lither than his opponent, gave no quarter and no reprieve launching forward into a double front kick that landed solidly on the other’s upper chest. 

“Ohff!” breathed the kick recipient, stumbling backwards again but this time catching the other’s foot in his chest with his hands. In one fluid motion, he swung the opponent’s body in the opposite direction and sent him smashing into a vintage end table scattering books and splintered wood in its wake. 

“Stop this!” growled the larger figure. Both were covered head to toe in black skin suits and both sported body armor on their upper torsos. Any form of identity had been obliterated by their form fitting nylon masks. Size was the only visible difference between the two. That, and the fact that only the larger fighter was armed with knives.

The smaller figure said nothing. Instead, he recovered and renewed his attack with a dizzying display of speed and precision. The larger one was almost caught off guard by how quickly his opponent closed the distance between them. The two circled in a dance of blocked body shots, and gaining and losing advantageous footing. Occasionally one landed a solid punch that would require the other to fall back and defend their wounded area. Though having the benefit of strength and height over his opponent, the larger fighter was having difficulty fending off the smaller one’s attack as he chose to fight close into his enemy and deliver an array of kidney and rib punches which were hard to defend against. The larger figure was losing patience. He decided to end the battle ingloriously with a vicious uppercut that would have rattled the gates of heaven. Bone met bone with a terrible cracking noise as the smaller figure was blown backwards into the air and landed with a heavy thud on the flagstone floor. 

“STOP THIS NOW!” bellowed the larger fighter as he advanced with fists curled. “STOP BEFORE YOU GET HURT!”

The Gallery echoed with the command. The smaller figure lay on the floor for a moment shaking his head trying to clear the effects of the punch, and then his shoulders began to shake as if he was laughing at his rival. A ripping sound caught the standing figure’s attention just as his armored vest came free and slid to the floor. Instantly he looked at his companion and saw two of his own knives in his enemy’s hands. Impressive, he thought in spite of himself. His opponent was deceptive and adaptive. Time to up the ante.

The smaller fighter was on his feet again. The larger one pulled two knives from his belt and spun them in his palms. These were _his_ weapons of skill. He was an artist with them, and though he had not intended to use them against his opponent, his loss of body armor and his opponent’s determination changed his mind. The two clashed locking both of their weapons against each other. The deadly danced renewed itself with fended blows and tricky feints, but this time the measured beat of their footfalls and staggered panting was accented by the brilliant staccato of tempered steel. 

Despite the smaller one’s skills, knife play was not his strength, and soon the larger fighter had knocked one blade safely away placing him at a distinct advantage. The smaller fighter looked around and then suddenly backtracked ceding ground to his opponent. With one blade left, he leaped onto another table stacked high with books and oddments and stared at the maelstrom of blades and grim determination that was bearing down on him. Taking an extra moment or two to aim, the smaller fighter threw his knife and watched as it sliced through the fabric of his opponent’s skin suit across his right shoulder despite his enemy’s last minute feint. With a small bloom of satisfaction, the smaller fighter heard the larger one growl in surprise as he stopped to inspect the cut on his shoulder so near his neck. 

The large fighter seemed to physically expand as his anger and frustration built within him. He felt his muscles tighten and sensed the unconscious workings of a body so familiar with killing that it positively ached to be unleashed on his enemy. But he couldn’t, and holding himself back was causing him pain. He suddenly realized that he didn’t have a flair for fighting; he had a flair for killing. If he didn’t end this soon, the veneer might crack and he would be forced to do something that he could not repair. He spotted his opponent leaping from the table to a darkened alcove and he followed.

Just as he reached the alcove, a suit of armor emerged and crashed against him knocking him to the floor. As he struggled to get clear of the heavy armor pieces, a broad sword struck the flagstone to his left leaving chunks of stone in its wake as it ascended again in the hands of his enemy. He was flabbergasted. The sword was far too heavy for his small companion to wield with any kind of control, and now, with his own reach being too short and his weapons too flimsy, the situation was growing more dangerous by the minute. The broadsword descended again and snapped his right knife blade in half on impact. The larger fighter discarded his blade and scrambled to his feet reaching for a fresh knife from his belt. Just in time he blocked the descending broadsword with his two knives crossed before him. His opponent was tiring quickly under the weight of the sword, but the larger man still had to heave considerably to throw the sword blade back and toss the smaller one off balance. It worked. The smaller fighter hesitated long enough for the larger one to kick him squarely in his torso armor. The broadsword clattered to the ground as the smaller fighter fell to the floor close to where his opponent had abandoned his broken blade. Breathless but undeterred, the small one grabbed up the still sharp blade and lunged at the enemy. The larger man had enough time to twist out of the blade’s path, but as his opponent passed him, he struck out with both knives by instinct: one at eye level and one at throat level. One knife hit home and the smaller figure crashed to the ground writhing and clutching the mask.

“Evey!” cried the standing figure. “ _EVEY!_ oh god, please no! No, no, nonononono….” He dropped his blades and was on his knees by her side in an instant lifting her head into his lap as her removed her mask. Golden brown curls cascaded over his knees as he tried to clear her face and see her injury. Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at him and smiled with a devilish grin. She had a bloody scratch along her cheekbone under her left eye and a split lip from the uppercut but otherwise she was fine. V could have throttled her on the spot.

“Hmmmm,” she murmured “Gotcha!”

“Evey!” V was furious.

Evey giggled smugly in his lap. She clearly had no idea how close he had come to killing her.

“EVE!” He bellowed at her but she continued to laugh.

“Evelyn Hammond! Do you have ANY IDEA how dangerous and foolish that was?! I could’ve hurt you – you could’ve been KILLED!” V was shaking uncontrollably, his heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to make a break for freedom.

“Oh V, please.” She said with a certain sang froid that he temporarily envied. “You’ve been beating on me in training for _months_ \- always critical, always in a controlled environment. Sometimes I think that you do it because you get off on the control of it, just like in the cell. You’ve lost sight of my progress. I can’t be a student forever, V. Eventually, every student must face his master.” Evey paused a moment trying to read his black-clad outline. “Besides….”

“Besides, what?” he said.

“Besides, I wanted to surprise your arrogant ass! Turn about is fair play, after all. Do you know how long I’ve been planning that elevator assault?” She playfully grabbed the front of his skin suit pretending to strangle him. It was then that he noticed the large diagonal slice across his chest: at some point she had gotten close enough to do that. She was a most impressive student. He beamed inwardly.

V sighed as he absently traced a curl across his thigh with his eyes.

“I see. You have a point, and yes, you have proven that you are more skilled than I had realized.” V fingered the slice in his suit for emphasis. “But was it really necessary to put us both at risk in order to prove yourself?” He mentally added: was it necessary to nearly kill me with the thought that I had harmed you? “I really could’ve hurt you, Evey.”

“And I could’ve hurt you as well, but I didn’t.” she said matter-of-factly.

V snorted derisively. As soon as he had done it, he wished that he hadn’t.

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” she said rising from his lap.

“Nothing, Evey.” He said avoiding her gaze and rising to his feet, realizing how sore he was going to be in the morning.

“You pompous prick! Even after all of that,” she gestured to the carnage surrounding them “you _still_ think I can’t touch you – that I can’t hurt you!”

“No, Evey, I didn’t mean….Ohff!”

V didn’t finish his sentence. Evey swung her legs around and deftly kicked his feet out from under him. He landed on his back with a wallop and in an instant she was straddled across his chest with her knees pinning his arms to the floor. She leaned the length of her body over his chest. He felt her thighs squeezing against his attempts to free his arms. He felt her abdominals rising and falling with controlled breathing against his own. He felt her warm breasts pressing against his own chest; two pinpoints of white heat hardening and searing their way into his consciousness. She crossed her arms across his clavicle and rested her chin on top. He could taste her breath when she spoke.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of…” she whispered.

Suddenly, she flicked her right hand and a small blade appeared in it. Where the hell did that come from, he thought. As if the day’s exertions and the predicament of laying under Evey wasn’t stimulating enough, V now found himself newly aroused and worried that Evey might try to hurt him. He couldn’t make up his mind if she was threatening him or flirting with him. He wanted to give the right response, but hesitated, not knowing what should come next.

Evey sliced the tiny blade across his face, opening a hole in the material of his mask where his mouth was. V gasped and then he tasted her. Kissing roughly at first, she wanted to maintain her control of the situation, but when his lips relented and his tongue shyly met her own, she let go and let the kiss tell him what she had wanted to say for months. Alternating between the two of them, they explored this small part of each other softly and deeply. Evey breathed the experience in and when she finally pushed away from him, she felt his groan of regret reach out like a feeble link trying to keep them together a moment longer. She raised her knees releasing his hands while pressing down on the cut on his chest. It elicited a beautiful twinge of discomfort. He lay motionless for a moment and she studied the contours of the skintight mask. He had high cheekbones and broad, flat planes to his face like some kind of rough-hewn sculptor’s study. His nose was long and aquiline but had probably been broken once or twice and thus dispelled the image of aristocracy that he might have otherwise possessed. She knew from feeling that his mouth was full and wide, and she felt the scars that crossed over his lips that added a wonderful texture to their kiss. The mask was so tight that she could see almost everything – everything but colour. She wondered what colour his eyes were.

“V?”

“Evey?” he still lay frozen beneath her.

“What colour are your eyes?

“Umm,…. They’re dark brown.”

“Mmmm.” She murmured as she stroked the side of his face.

V rose up half sitting and pushed Evey back onto his lap. His hands found her hair and tangled in it as he pulled her to him again. When their lips met a jolt electrified him from groin to cranium. He crushed her to him as if he had just discovered the source of all the power that he would ever need: he couldn’t let her go. He tasted her blood in his mouth from her split lip and began to suck her lip hungrily. He wanted her inside of him, but another part of him furiously wanted to be inside her and was making its wishes known to both of them. Evey trailed a hand inside of his sliced skin suit and explored V’s chest slowly making her way south. Her other hand found his cock and began to explore its surface with equal intensity despite being hampered by clothing. V hissed and grabbed both hands to stop her.

“Evey,” he pleaded, “I don’t know…, I mean, what if it doesn’t work? What if…I can’t…” His brain was a riot of contradictory impulses, but the one message that he couldn’t ignore was: don’t do anything to lose her.

With her hand still wrapped around his shaft, she cocked an eyebrow as if to say, I think that you can do this. Another electric jolt shocked through his body but this time Evey gasped as she felt it pulse through his stiff member hardening it further. She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest as a sympathetic wave of her own swept through her and made her wet with anticipation. She groaned and ground herself against him with both of their hands still on his cock. He felt her wetness seeping through her skin suit and one last jolt of insistence rocked him. 

“Oh, Eve…” his breath came short and choppy.

Evey took her small blade and, with deft movements, sliced the side seams of her top and shrugged out of it. Then she scored the surface of each leg from waistband to ankle and used both hands to rend the fabric away from her body. Suddenly V was in possession of a lapful of completely naked, hot, wet girl. It didn’t seem possible that minutes before this writhing wet dream had tried to cleave him in half with a broadsword. 

“V,” Evey rasped roughly “Remember I said that I could hurt you? Well, I can, and here’s how it would play out.” She took a deep breath and looked directly at him. “I love you. It’s the only reason why I would put up with half of the crap that you’ve put me through. I will love you no matter what you do. But, if you don’t take me now and claim me as your own - as you so obviously want to - I will get up, pleasure myself, pack my little bags and leave here forever. You’ve got a decision to make, V. It’s time for the teacher to learn something new.”

V paused for a long moment. Then he leaned forward and pulled her hand from his shaft while reaching for his last remaining knife.

“I’ll never let you leave here.” He growled so threateningly that Evey’s heart stopped momentarily.

He wrapped her fingers around the hilt of his knife and guided her hand under his shirt; jerking upwards and slicing it clean away. He released her hand to let her do as she wished. Slowly, she lowered the knife to his groin and traced the outline of his arousal with the blade edge. V hissed and watched her intently but didn’t move. She moved to his foot and slid the blade up the inside seam, slicing as she progressed upwards. The cool flat of the blade sent trilling shocks up his calf and along his inner thigh until it reached his center. Here Evey looked up at him and smiled slyly. With a tug of her hand at the seam end, his pants fell away like newly cut paper freeing his impatient erection. V’s mind boggled. He looked at her flushed with arousal and pride, and his last hesitation faded away: he pulled his mask from his head.

He heard the knife clatter to the floor almost at the same moment that he felt her body crash into him. In an instant she was in his mouth, her hands roaming over the new terrain of his body with abandon. His hands cupped her head and her breast, alternately twisting her curls and circling her nipple with his fingertips. He tore his mouth away from hers and rolled them both over, allowing her to feel the weight of him press down upon her. His erection pressed into them both, causing Evey to moan with arousal and V to moan with urgency. V’s mouth nipped at her jaw, her throat, her shoulder before finding her breast and circling her nipple. His lips descended and began to suck, while his hands skimmed lower to reach between her thighs. She was newly flushed and V was surprised to feel how warm she was. He cautiously traced the edges of her opening while trying to understand what her bucking hips were attempting to tell him. Evey’s back arched and she breathed in gasps.

“Deeper.” 

When he didn’t respond, one of her hands found his and guided him to her spot. Their fingers slipped against one another, and V unconsciously increased the pressure on her nipple almost to the point of pain. He felt himself becoming wet and prayed that he would last a bit longer. He released her breast and looked up at her.

“Like this?” he said like a curious schoolboy.

“Ummm, Oh! Oh, circles are good….” Evey faded out of coherency for a moment. “Small moves, V, small moves.”

V slipped one finger deep within her and started to pulse lightly. He had no idea what he was doing but Evey’s response was more than encouraging. She bucked up against his hips and he groaned against her with need.

“Oh, Evey, _please_ ….” he whimpered.

Realizing his inexperience was causing him pain; she stroked him a few times until he was ready and then guided him to her. V sank himself into her. He closed his eyes to focus and he saw sparks of light flashing across his eyelids. His arms shook and his heart beat so loudly that he could feel it pulsing in his ears. His body said, Move!, so he did. He drew back and pushed down deeper. Evey’s body wrapped around him as she radiated need. She cried out for him. He pushed deeper and deeper. His mouth found her ear.

“Your _mine!_ ” he husked, plunging again and again.

A dreadful pressure built within him, curling his spine and fingers, finally pushing up, around and through him into her. He fell into her as deeply as he could and spent his spasms until his body went limp. 

“I have dreamed a dream. And now that dream has come for me.” he mumbled softly.

V lay over Evey for a long time, until she finally brought him back to reality with a particularly vicious love bite.

“Ouch!”

“You’re crushing me, my love.”

“Oh. My apologies, Evey, I…. say that again.”

“What? You’re crushing me?”

“No, the other bit.”

“My love.”

“Yes. _That_.” He pulled her to him and kissed her tenderly. When he pulled away, his heart leapt that she could look upon him as he was and still show such love in her eyes. “So, how did I do, my indomitable student?”

“Hmmm, it was a solid B minus. A very strong performance.” Evey looked around the Gallery absently from where she lay. “Oh, V, look at all of the CRAP that we have to clean up!”

He turned her head back to him. He was frowning.

“A B minus?”

“V, you can’t hit it out of the park on your first try. Part of the fun is discovering each other: what works and what doesn’t. You’ve just been de-flowered; I think a B minus is a _very_ respectable grade!”

“Mmph.” V rose to his knees, scooped Evey up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of onions. He started walking towards his bedroom.

“V ! Where are we going?” she said giggling while lightly slapping his naked behind.

“I want an A!” he growled.


End file.
